Scarlet & Gold
by noodledoodles
Summary: Harriet Potter struggles with the death of Sirius, but after being invited by Hermione to spend the summer at her home in muggle London, she finds a way to cope by frequenting an underground club at night. However, she also finds more than she bargained for in the form of an arrogant, American playboy that reminds her too much of Draco Malfoy to her liking. (Fem!Harry)
1. Chapter 1

Harriet Potter was feigning sleep. She strained her ears, and could hear the definite slow breathing of her best friend, Hermione Granger. Having been her housemate for the past 5 years gave her intimate knowledge of her sleeping habits. Of course, being summer, this was made to be even easier without the droning snores of Lavender Brown to muffle them. After the events at the ministry, and when Hermione was out of the hospital wing, she invited Harriet to her parents' home in London. Supremely grateful, Harriet accepted. She didn't think she could handle the abrasive atmosphere at the Dursleys (not to mention Dudley's lewd looks), nor the sympathetic looks at the Weasleys. Plus, witnessing the familial closeness of the fiery redheads would only serve to remind her of what she lost- the chance of having a proper family-the death of Sirius confirmed this for her.

Feeling a tightness in her throat, Harriet quietly rolled out of bed and opened her trunk to banish the invasive thoughts. Taking out a pair of black tights with several runs in them, and a tight black dress, she padded her way to Hermione's bathroom. Quickly changing, she thought to the events of the past few weeks. After the death of Sirius, and her subsequent blow-up at Dumbledore's office, Harriet simply felt… lost. Not wanting revisit the memory of Sirius falling through the veil in her dreams, she began to suffer from insomnia, and had taken to donning her father's old invisibility cloak and haunting the empty corridors of Hogwarts to distract herself from her grief addled thoughts.

However, now without the Astronomy tower for her to watch the creeping dawn emerge, she found London more than suitable for her night habits. In fact, she found that she actually loved the city. As a child at the Dursleys, she would always have to stay at Mrs. Figg's house and politely look at all her cat pictures when her family would go for outings. It was only in getting her supplies with Hagrid, and then visiting the Ministry of Magic did she briefly see some of London. But at night, she found many an opportunity to distract herself from herself.

At first, in the beginning of the summer, Harriet simply ambled the streets passively in a haze. One night, however, she was intrigued to observe some muggle teenagers walking together excitedly. They looked a few years older, and had a conspiratory air about them, causing her to trail them. Keeping her wand at hand, and her invisibility cloak firmly around her, she allowed them to lead her underground, and then to a plain looking door. One innocuous knock later, and the door opened to reveal bright lights, crowds of people, and throbbing music that invaded her senses.

Harriet had no idea what this was. Sure, she had experienced parties at the Gryffindor common room after victories of her quidditch team. But whatever this was made quidditch after parties look like a one of Aunt Petunia's stuffy tea parties with other housewives at Little Whinging. Though at first feeling out of her depth, Harriet soon felt like a normal rebellious teenage girl for the first time of her life. Stuffing her invisibility cloak into her denim bag, she let herself be swept up by mob of dancing people. Her heart seemed to beat in time with the pulsing music. Closing her eyes, the thought thrilled her that for a summer she could be someone else for a change. She didn't have to be Harriet Potter, the girl-who-lived. Here, there was no prophecy looming over her. Here, nobody had even heard of her.

Then she got properly acquainted with alcohol. Fred & George let her take a few sips of firewhiskey once in her fourth year, and coughing amidst their raucous laughter, she didn't have the interest again. Now, she understood the point. Once she got past the taste, Harriet particularly enjoyed the accompanying sensation of euphoria. Though she was aware that it was fabricated, like a switch, all her problems were at the corner of her mind and numbed significantly.

Though she never properly got to grieve for Sirius, she thought he might've approved of her rebelling. Then again, he might've abhorred her method of carrying it out, but the thought comforted her and assuaged the guilt of her nocturnal activities.

Ever since, Harriet returned almost every other night. She joined the throng of dancing people, abandoning herself to the youthful freedom that she knew she might never experience again. Each night, she would return in a drunken stupor, shower, and pass out in the cot next to Hermione for a few hours.

Staring into the mirror of Hermione's brightly lit bathroom, Harriet observed her reflection. Her dark tresses framed her face which had taken on a gaunt appearance, losing the large majority of her baby fat. Though it was her eyes that made her cringe. Whereas her expressive emerald eyes used to be her favorite trait, the almond shaped orbs now held a hollowed haunted look that was not there before. Applying some make up, the sixteen year old believed she could pull off eighteen with little trouble. Switching off the lights, she tip toed to her bed, and grabbed her cloak and wand, shoving them into a mokeskin pouch that she had picked up on a recent trip to Diagon Alley with Hermione. The pouch around her neck looked gaudy and out of place resting right above her cleavage, when accessorizing her current outfit, but she figured it was a necessary evil. If she was anything, she was careful. Quietly sneaking out of Hermione's townhouse, she traced her steps to where she knew the underground muggle club to be.

Knocking on the door, she smiled when her favorite spot of the summer revealed itself to her. She drifted to the center of the large, spacious club, melding with all the other people dancing. The music was so loud, she couldn't hear herself think, let alone those around her, but she liked it that way. Harriet had her eyes closed as she moved and danced. She didn't know how she looked, but she realized she did not care. At that moment, she felt a strong pair of hands grip her right over her hips. Often, she would feel hands on her, but shaking them off and moving elsewhere usually dissuaded any guys who had the wrong idea. Deciding she was due a new spot, she shimmied out of the hands that held her and gravitated towards the bar. Reaching into her mokeskin, she retrieved a flask, and took a swig of whiskey. Harriet let it burn down her throat as she reclined against a wall. With a sardonic smile, she wondered if she looked a bit like Mad-Eye Moody just now. Lost in thought, she started when she heard a distinctly American voice speak in her ear.

"It's always a mystery to me how women are able to hold things without jacket pockets. Some purses seem to defy the laws of physics. So, where did you manage to hide that bad boy?"

Harriet briefly glanced at the face that was uncomfortably close to hers. She recognized him as a boisterous American that she had seen at the club for the past three nights. He always seemed to arrive alone, but leave with a new woman. Not that she was watching. She averted her eyes from his and stared ahead. She didn't want to talk about her flask, nor her mokeskin, and could not come up with a lie, so she changed the subject.

"Did you follow me from the dance floor just now?" Harriet asked this. She didn't know if he was the bloke who had groped her from before, but she felt it a safer topic.

"Er...as a matter of fact, I did," he replied in a voice that exuded arrogance. Harriet looked at him again with surprise.

"And what were you hoping to accomplish?" she asked. The American man looked to be in his early to mid twenties, but then again she supposed she didn't appear as young as she actually was. This sent a sense of satisfaction in her.

"You don't know who I am?" he asked with genuine surprise in his voice.

"Should I?" Though she reentered the muggle world this summer, she wasn't exactly up with the times. Was he a famous American movie star?

"Tony Stark," he posited as he presented his hand to her, while flashing what he probably thought was a winning smile. Reluctantly, she supposed he was rather handsome, but his overconfidence that seemed to come with his name reminded her too much of Malfoy. Unimpressed, she took his hand. He lingered his hand over hers, before looking at her expectantly.

"Harriet" she returned.

"Harriet…" he continued with an encouraging nod.

Though she was in the muggle world, paranoia still ran through her, courtesy of Voldemort and his merry band of followers.

"Just Harriet." she responded primly. Tony gave a bark like laugh in response. With a pang, she thought to Sirius. With his roguish looks and hair that looked as though it was coiffed to appear messy, he even bore a loose resemblance to her godfather. His facial hair was even cut in a similar fashion.

"Well _Just Harriet_, what's a beautiful woman like you doing in a place like this? Wanna get out of here?"

Without thinking, she took another large gulp from her flask, swallowed, and nodded. She felt his hand lace around one of hers, threading her through the dance floor, and out of the club. Though she could still hear dull thumps from the loud music, it was suddenly very quiet in comparison. Harriet already regretted saying yes to the American, and felt her hands become clammy. She wish she had her wand, but one hand was in Tony's, and the other still grasping her flask. She knew the alcohol already had its affect on her since her thoughts became disjointed in her head. Usually she enjoyed this sensation, but she really wish she could think straight. She was torn from her thoughts when she heard Tony speak again.

"This is Happy, my chauffeur. He is pretty much my best friend since he always tags along on my adventures!" Tony said with a smirk.

"That is because you pay me Mr. Stark," he replied in a deadpan voice, before getting into the drivers seat of a stretch limousine. Tony led Harriet into the open and roomy limo before making another bark like laugh in response.

Harriet felt a lump in her throat, and leaned her head on his shoulder.

"Sirius," she heard herself slur a bit.

"Nah," Tony said, bemused, "he's just fulfilling his best bud role with a bit of playful banter. Eh, Happy?" At that moment, he pressed a button, allowing a few glasses of what appeared to be a bubbling drink to rise up.

"Champagne, m'lady?" he quipped in a horrible rendition of a British accent. She accepted, and with her mind still screaming at her, greedily gulped at the alcohol. She started to understand the gravity of the mistake she had made.

_It's only because he reminded you of Sirius, you idiot. _She thought. _That doesn't mean you go home with him a minute after meeting him. Harriet, you prat._ It was true, though. It was as if a spell washed over her, and she desperately wanted to hear him laugh again.

Downing his own glass, Tony pressed another button to raise a barrier between them and the driver. Looking around, Harriet distantly realized this was her first time in a limousine. As a child, she remembered staring at the window of the Dursleys' car, and admiring the occasional limousine on the road. She always used to believe there was someone important in there. How strange that she was now that person. She took another swallow of the champagne. Harriet definitely preferred this to the dry whiskey she had taken a liking to recently. Part of her also knew that too many thoughts were gravitating towards dangerous territory, and she was close to losing control of her emotions.

"So, Just Harriet, you live around here?" Tony looked at her, grinning. He looked to be in his element, reclining confidently. She wasn't even sure where 'here' was with the limo already moving, but she nodded.

"I'm staying with a friend for the summer," Harriet explained. He nodded distractedly, and tore the glass of champagne from her grip.

She looked at him questioningly. _Did he think she was drinking too much? Was she acting foolishly?_

Harriet was still thinking to herself furiously when she felt his calloused hand cup her face. He tilted his face and stared at her with a small smile. Without preamble, Tony took her lips in his. She moaned in protest, but realized he must've taken that positively, as he pressed himself closer to her. Absently, she noticed that she was laying down on the extensive seats of the limo. His lips hungrily kissed hers, running his tongue over her lips. She wanted to stop, but instead she opened her mouth slightly, granting Tony access. With the kiss deepened, she unconsciously hitched her leg over Tony's body, drawing him even closer. She felt his other hand threading through her black locks, and moaned at the touch, this time out of pleasure. Smiling through the kiss, Tony ran his hand over her leg, caressing it.

While kissing her, Harriet felt Tony gently lift her out of the limo. _Had they stopped?_

Harriet tore her lips from his when she heard a strained, but polite voice announce, "Welcome back, Mr. Stark." _So I'm in a hotel lobby? _The thought was fleeting, as he ravenously pushed his lips against her neck, nibbling gently. Despite herself, she moaned again while her eyes fluttered shut. With a ding, they were in an elevator. Though her grasp on time was tentative, she still marveled at how long he must've carried her through the hotel. Now, though, he had propped her up against one of the mirror walls of the elevator, her legs still wrapped around his waist. Catching her reflection briefly, she could not recognize herself as the woman-_no, girl_- that Tony was kissing. With another ding, they were kissing in what appeared to be a penthouse suite. The last thought that went through her head as she felt Tony lower her onto a soft bed, hovering his body over hers was _maybe when Voldemort kills me, I won't die a virgin. _


	2. Chapter 2

The fact that she was in a bed with a grown man both excited and scared her. She knew that this was wrong. She was barely sixteen and had only snogged one boy, Seamus after the Yule Ball in her fourth year, and stopped him when his hands wandered too far to her liking. But this was supremely wrong, and despite her alcohol addled mind and how good it felt, she knew this.

All the same, while these thoughts whirled through her mind, her traitorous body continued to respond to Tony Stark's ministrations. With expert ease, he flipped Harriet on top of him, and slowly undid the zipper to her tight black dress. Chest heaving, she let him. As he gently pulled the dress off her body, she helped. Yet when she was only in a black lacy bra and her tights, she felt vulnerable. She started crossing her arms over her chest.

As if sensing her insecurity, he gave her a crooked grin, and pulled her arms apart gently.

"God, you're beautiful…"

"Er… thanks," Harriet suddenly felt her age.

Tony began peeling off her tights. In the hopes of helping him, Harriet lifted her body, and began pulling with him. However, she overestimated the length of the bed, and fell backwards in a heap on the floor, pulling the duvet with her. The sheer absurdity of this situation got to Harriet, and she began to breathlessly giggle.

Her breath caught in her throat when Sirius's- _No, Tony's_- bark of a laugh sounded above her.

"M'lady, shall I join-" Tony's smirk wiped off his face when rather than finding evidence of mirth on Harriet's face, he found traces of tears.

"Hey… oh shit… you okay?"

Whereas Tony appeared cocky and confident before, his voice became soft and sensitive, which only served to make her face crumble, and the tears come faster. Harriet furiously wiped them away.

_What was wrong with her? _She hadn't broken down since the incident in Dumbledore's office, and even then she hadn't cried. She only threw his valuables around. And screamed. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time she had ever cried. Life at the Dursleys made it clear to her that any of her freakish displays of emotion, especially the noisy type, was strictly frowned upon.

"I'm sorry… I forgot your name. You okay? I didn't mean to laugh, I thought you were laughing too, and that you were alright. If I had know you were hurt-" Tony cut himself off and ran his hand through his hair.

"No, no, it's not your fault. I was laughing, but then your laugh… it sounded like someone I lost, and I wanted to hear it, because I miss him, but I think I shouldn't have. I shouldn't have done any of this. I just wanted to forget. I am such a fool. I shouldn't be running away from everything like I have. I-" Frustrated, Harriet felt a sob building up from deep in her chest. "I should not be crying. I do _not _cry." Embarrassed, she realized she was rambling, and to an older man who didn't even know her name.

Tony looked slightly uncomfortable, but leaned over the bed to help her up from her undignified pile on the floor.

"So…" He looked at Harriet with a scrutinizing expression.

"Harriet," she supplied for him.

"Right. Just Harriet. Are you okay? I'm not really equipped to handle this kind of stuff, but do you want to talk about what's on your mind? Or something..." he trailed off uncertainly, but reached for the tissue box on the night table next to the bed, and handed it to her awkwardly.

"No, no, it's okay. Believe me, I am usually _not_ a blubbering mess. This is so embarrassing." She wiped at her nose.

"So who did you lose?" He asked, after he gave her a few moments to compose herself. Harriet blinked in response.

"Er…"

Tony volunteered instead.

"I lost my parents a few years ago. Car crash." Harriet looked up at him in surprise. Tony shrugged, looking more sober than she thought was possible on his face. All of a sudden, a surge of sympathy washed over her, and she fought the urge to embrace him. She didn't want to freak him out too much after her recent display.

After clearing her throat, Harriet spoke up. "Were you close? I'm sorry, was that too-"

"Nah, don't worry about it. To be perfectly honest, no. It still came as a hell of a shock, but I was mostly mourning the loss of Howard and Maria Stark, not so much my mom and dad. I had a squadron of nannies raise me instead." He gave a bitter laugh. "My mom was mostly distant, while my father was usually busy."But you know the worst part of it was? The part I was too ashamed to tell anyone? It was that I never got to hear my father tell me he was proud of me. My parents were dead, and that was what I could think of most. Is that selfish?"

"No!" Harriet startled herself over how strong that came out. Looking down flustered, she repeated softly, "No, that's not selfish at all." Feeling as though she would have to contribute something more, she looked back down and absently toyed with the crumpled tissue in her hand. "When I was a baby, my parents were killed by a sick psychopath," she spat venomously.

Though she did not look up, she could almost feel compassion wafting off of the playboy. "I grew up with my mum's family- her sister and husband, and their son- and they never liked me. But the feeling's mutual, I suppose. I was never allowed to ask questions about my parents, and when I did, Aunt Petunia would tell me that they were drunks and drove themselves to their death. I never even knew what they looked like until I attended the boarding school they met at. Merlin, they were beautiful."

She sighed, and swallowed. She only spoke of part of this to Professor Lupin, but felt it was something Tony would understand. "But in my third year…" she had to choose her words carefully, not wanting to give any mention to the dementors. "I began having these nightmares that were more like memories. I began dreaming of the moments before their deaths. I heard their screams, my mum's pleas for my life, even his laughter."

Despite herself, she shivered a bit and snuck a peek at Tony. He had an intense look on his face. Hugging her knees to her scantily clad chest, she continued. "Yet, the fucked up thing about it, was that even though it was my worst memory, in some twisted way, I almost _wanted_ to revisit that memory, only so I could hear their voices. Because that was my only memory of them." She finished in a hushed whisper, having never spoken those words out loud. "I never told anyone before. So no, I don't think you were being selfish. You were being human." She looked up and saw a mixture of sympathy and gratefulness in his expression.

In that moment, an understanding was shared between the two, and they sat in companionable silence.

Harriet swallowed, and spoke again. "To answer your other question, in June I lost my godfather. His name was Sirius, and he was the only family I had left. I was supposed to go live with him. And I feel at fault for his death. He was trying to protect me. That's why I-that's why I was upset. Your laugh was so _Sirius_ that I couldn't quite keep myself together. To tell you the truth, I think that was part-_most_ of the reason why I came with you tonight. I'm sorry."

Tony gave her a smile and shook his head. "Then your intentions were more wholesome than mine. To be honest, I still wouldn't mind doing those things to you. I definitely didn't expect a care and share session. Pepper's been trying to convince me to see a therapist for the longest time. Guess that won't be necessary now, huh?"

"Pepper?" Harriet asked partly out of curiosity, and partly because she actually liked talking to Tony Stark.

"Oh, she's my secretary at Stark Industries, and a good friend." At her blank look he grinned. "So you really never heard of me? Even if I'm American, people tend to recognize the name."

"Oh, sorry-"

"Don't apologize. In fact, I find it kind of refreshing. So, besides the doom and gloom of us both being emotionally disturbed orphans, tell me a little bit more about yourself." At her look of hesitance, he started.

"As you know, I'm Tony Stark. I wasn't kidding when I said that Happy, my driver is one of my closest friends. I think it is because half the people I know only want to associate with me because of my fame and money, and the other half- well I suppose they can't handle the Stark!" He puffed up his chest pompously, causing Harriet to laugh. The image was even more ridiculous with his half buttoned dress shirt in disarray.

"Yeah, I bet. Not to mention your humility," she supplied wrly.

"Um… let's see. Though it might surprise you with my dashing good looks, I have always been a bit of a nerd. I graduated MIT at 19, and feel my happiest when I'm tinkering. I haven't really done much of that lately, but I've got time. I like thrills. Fast cars, roller coasters, you name it."

Harriet smiled at that, thinking to her Firebolt. "I like going fast too. I like to- I'd like to fly someday." she finished lamely. Tony gave her an encouraging nod.

"Well, I should take you to my private jet soon. That's the most intimate flying I can think of!" He gave her a wink. "Well, what else? I'm curious about you, _Just _Harriet."

"I don't think there's much else to tell…" She trailed off, not having much to share that wasn't Hogwarts.

"Oh, no, no, no! It's your turn! You must play the rules of the game!" He nudged her playfully.

"Well, I dunno. I like the outdoors. I run in the mornings to clear my head."

"Where do you live?"

"Well, currently? London. But that's only with a friend, Hermione, and the Grangers. The're dentists. Most of the year I study in Scotland." Harriet cautiously glanced over at Tony, but figured he must have assumed she was implying university. So she continued. "I originally come from Surrey, where my family live. If I don't ever step another foot in that town again, it'd be too soon! I never had any money of my own, and used to wear Dudley, my cousin's cast-offs until I was eleven. But because he was the size of a whale, I always came across as an androgynous, twiggy… thing. But when I discovered the truth about my parents, I also discovered my inheritance. Not too soon afterwards, I had a merry bonfire at my friend, Ron's house, burned all of Dudleys clothes, and got my own wardrobe. It was an amazing feeling, independence." Harriet smiled shyly while Tony laughed.

"Darling, even if you were dressed in a trash bag, you would've looked sexy tonight." Blushing, Harriet returned her attention to the tissue on her lap.

* * *

><p>Over the course of the night, Tony and Harriet talked. Without much thought, the two were snuggled comfortably together in the large bed, both enjoying the warmth and company. With her head resting on Tony's chest, Harriet burst out laughing at his story about a robot he had built in college which he had designed to pinch the arse of any girl he directed it to with a remote, but that had malfunctioned and gotten Tony into trouble with his very male, very irate physics professor.<p>

She began to realize that he wasn't just an arrogant, self-absorbed playboy with a dry sense of humor. In fact, she began to suspect that aside from his brilliance, he was also kind and had a righteous streak, evident in the things she knew he really wanted to do with the company. Those qualities were just buried deep beneath his carefully constructed facade that he found more comfortable to appear as from a young age. The witch was also aware that this moment was most likely not to last, and that after tonight, the two would most likely return to their roles and look back on the night as a mere fluke. Until then, however, she decided she would enjoy the other person she ever truly confided in, and he the only girl he ever laid in bed with, without having done the deed beforehand. She supposed that having emotionally unravelled as she did, and being in the company of a human who she surprisingly shared much in common with, she sought comfort in revealing secrets to someone who didn't see her as the chosen one, the girl-who-lived, or any other titles she only had the displeasure of gaining in the wizarding world.

Muffling a yawn, Tony teasingly twirled her dark hair around his finger, and asked her another question in their game of sharing. "Favorite color?"

Smiling, Harriet immediately thought to the only home she knew- Hogwarts. She never felt more at ease than she did in the Gryffindor common rooms, lounging in the armchairs by a toasty fire with Ron and Hermione- Ron discussing chess or quidditch, or Hermione nagging them both on their homework. She thought of her honorary position as seeker in the family that was the Gryffindor Quidditch team, all of them clad in the same colors.

"Scarlet and gold," she responded.

"Well, aside from the fact that I asked for your favorite _color_- not colors- interesting choice. Why those two?"

"To me, it means bravery and heroism and… home."

"Sounds dramatic. Well, since you asked me, my favorite _color, _singular, is green. But I have never seen a shade that so closely resembles radioactive vomit as yours, and still manages to appear sexy."

Unsure if she had just been given a thinly veiled insult or an insulting compliment, Harriet responded by swatting him on the arm. For the first time in a long time, Harriet drifted off to sleep with a small smile resting on her face. For the first time in a long time, Harriet felt content.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hey, I am so pleased with the response that I've gotten so far! Thanks to everyone who reviewed my first chapter or sent me private messages! I did get asked a few times what my updating schedule would be. I am planning on updating every Friday. Please review with any questions or critiques! Thanks so much! <strong>


	3. Chapter 3

Harriet found herself within what appeared to be a grand estate. She felt calm, powerful, in control. Seated at the head of the dining table, she was pleased to feel the fear in the magical signatures of all the wizards seated around her. It was good that the years since her last regime of power only served to sharpen the respect of all when she returned. Punishing those of the inner circle not long after her rebirth curbed any doubts as to her power. A single finger stroked Nagini on the head as she listened to each of her followers present their information to her.

After Yaxley finished his report, a silence lay thick until Harriet felt the desire to break it. Looking to the Deatheater to his right, she smiled coldly.

"And what say you Severus?"

Severus' impassive face looked her way.

"The old man still believes he has my loyalty. He is under the belief that I have been feeding false or impertinent information. He also has been… displeased with Potter's lack of obedience," he said this all with his deliberate and careful voice. "It seems as though she has ignored his requests that she stay with her relatives, and instead has been in muggle London with her… mudblood…friend."

Harriet felt sudden anger course its way through her veins.

"And why have I heard of this only now?" she hissed.

If Severus was affected by her ire, he did not show it. That would have to change. It would not do to lose her affect on one of her most valuable followers.

"It seems as though he did not know with your… return taking the majority of his attention." His statement sent ripples of pleased laughter throughout his minions. Bellatrix seemed especially jubilant in her reaction.

Harriet allowed herself a small smile. "Yes, it seems as though choosing to reveal myself has caused quite the panic in even the '_best and brightest'_ wizards today. How… quaint."

Severus continued. "It was only now that a supposed guard has noted her absence from her home."

Harriet thought. Though she did not speak of this, she was affected since her last attempts on possessing the girl. Seeking retribution for the annoyance she caused her was long overdue, but she was still wary.

"I think sending a reminder to Harriet of our well wishes is in order, wouldn't you say? It seems as though she has grown fond of mudbloods over the weeks. How about we… share her sentiments?"

Amidst the sounds of approval (and cackles of excitement from Bellatrix), Harriet leaned back in her chair. She will come to Harriet when she felt the time was right. Until then, sending a message would be enough.

* * *

><p>Harriet awoke suddenly with her scar ablaze and with the sudden feeling of joy. Snippets of her dream (<em>or was it a vision?)<em> flooded to her mind. Some details were foggy, but she knew it was about her and that Voldemort wanted to do something. But what was it? However, in discovering that she did not recognize where she was, confusion gripped her, and much like attempting to cup water in her hands, the details evaded her.

First she thought that she was paralyzed. However looking down, she realized that she was tangled with another body and pair of limbs. A man's body to be exact. Eyes widening, the events of last night rushed back to her. Mortified, she discovered that she wore nothing but her bra and panties. It was funny how with the influence of alcohol, her modesty eluded her. Until the morning after. With relief, she at least remembered that apart from going much further than she had with anybody sexually, she did not have sex with the man.

Tony. That was his name. All the same she slept in bed with him for a night.

Suddenly her stomach plummeted when her drowsy stream of consciousness led her to her main problem. _Hermione_. Quickly, but carefully, Harriet extracted herself from Tony's embrace and scooted rather ungracefully off the bed. She immediately felt the loss of his warmth, but in a panic, Harriet looked for her belongings. First she found her mokeskin pouch thrown haphazardly on a chair. Then she found her dress and tights by the bed. Deciding that speed was of the utmost importance, she threw the tights in her mokeskin, and threw her dress on, not bothering to zip it all the way through. Her shoes were by the door, which she slipped on without much care. Taking one last glance at Tony's sleeping form, she entered the elevator.

Seeing her reflection in the elevator mirrors, Harriet groaned audibly. Hermione will have certainly noticed her absence by now. Whatever time it was. But with her dishevelled appearance…

"Shit. shit. shit. Hermione will have my head." Speaking those words aloud only served to make her more aware of the situation. With a ding, Harriet found herself in the lobby of the hotel. Not even glancing at the personnel, she rocketed outside and looked around. Though she had taken daily excursions with Hermione, and wandered on her own at night, she did not know London well, and she had no idea where she was now.

Deciding on the easiest and fastest course of action, Harriet hailed a cab.

Once inside, and after giving an address to the cabbie, she finally allowed herself a chance to think. Banishing all memories of last night, she focused on Hermione. She knew that she was betraying Hermione's trust every night by going out, but _now_ she fucked up. Waking up to a bed that was not slept in next to her was most likely unpleasant for her. She really hoped she didn't worry. Though she wasn't used to concern from family, Hermione was her best friend, and it wasn't exactly unknown that Harriet was a target to Voldemort.

Eventually, she arrived at the streets familiar to her. Rolling to a stop, Harriet reached into her mokeskin and gathered up the appropriate amount of change. Mentally appreciating the uses of her mokesin, she muttered a thanks to the cabbie and stepped out. Staring up at Hermione's house, she steeled herself and stepped inside. The first thing Harriet noticed was the unnatural stillness in the house. Thinking uneasily about her dream last night, Harriet felt panic wash over her.

"Hermione?" she hesitantly called. "Mr. & Mrs. Granger?" she added. No response. "Hermione, answer me. Are you in?" Her breaths came into short bursts.

"Hermione!" she clambered up the stairs and tore into Hermione's room. She didn't know what she expected to find, but Hermione sitting calmly on Harriet's bed was not one of them. At a second glance, she noticed guiltily that she did not look calm. Her hair was bushier than normal, her eyes were red-rimmed, and she was hugging her knees to her chest.

"What the fuck! Why didn't you answer me when I called? I was worried something happened to you, Hermione!" Harriet knew she was not going about the whole apology thing properly, but she was futilely going on the offensive to quench the shame that gripped her like a vice.

Hermione dropped her knees slightly and looked up at Harriet.

"Oh, Harriet. Did I worry you? How could I be so thoughtless," she spat in a shaking voice. Her voice was so low it was almost in a whisper.

Harriet recoiled slightly, but knew that she deserved that barb, and more.

"Hermione, I'm-"

"Don't. For once, I am not going to be understanding. For once, you will not be obstinate and rude. For once, you will _listen_ to me speak." Hermione's voice raised a notch, but this was all said in a cold fury. Harriet swallowed compulsively, and nodded. Hermione continued with a glare and stood up.

"Harriet, I believe that I have been more than understanding this summer. I know you've been through a lot. I told myself that I would not pry too terribly, or make you talk before you were ready. I would be sympathetic and accommodate your methods in coping, even if I didn't agree. But this has gone too far. I do not care if I am crossing some line, but as your best friend I believe I am allowed certain freedoms."

Though she knew she was being lectured, Harriet felt a fondness creep into her for her friend. She could see that logic and reasoning was helping Hermione compose herself, and found herself, as always, admiring the way she spoke.

"Hermione, I-"

"I'm not finished. Harriet, I know you think you were being clever, but honestly you are very daft. I know that you've been sneaking out at nights, but I felt as though I've been overbearing enough over the years that I wouldn't nose my way into your business without you telling me yourself. So I waited. I waited until you would volunteer some information, confide in me your feelings. But you never did. I know that people cope differently, and it takes time. I'm sorry about Sirius, Harriet. I truly am," Hermione said.

Harriet flinched at his name.

"But I am through making excuses for you. I want you to talk to me. Tell me what you're going through. And if not me, _somebody. _Talk to Ron. I know he doesn't send much post, but he is worried about you. Talk to Ginny. Talk to my bloody parents if you must," Harriet widened her eyes at Hermione's use of the expletive. "My parents who I had to lie to and say that you were feeling unwell because you missed breakfast. But honestly, I am more worried than ever, and it was so tempting to just tell them. Where were you last night? Where have you been going? Why were you out all night?" Harriet looked down.

In a whisper, she continued. "When you didn't come home last night, or this morning, I honestly didn't know what to believe. I was so scared for you, and I don't care anymore if this is all about Sirius, because you've been so selfish to have me worry this whole summer, and then to _not come home _all night? You have to know who you are, Harriet. What with being Harriet Potter, it's already terribly irresponsible of you to act this way. But with people who actually care about you too? That is appalling and- and- vile!" Taking a deep breath, "Harriet, I love you. You are my best friend. So please let me in. Talk to me. I need to know you are doing okay, because this summer has been agony for me, and I miss you. There, I am finished." Hermione sat back down.

Harriet, taken by a rush of affection hugged her friend. "Oh, Hermione! I am sorry. I really am." Her voice was muffled in Hermione's hair. "And I promise I will tell you everything. I think I am ready. But right now, I am starving." Hermione laughed lightly in response, causing Harriet to sag in relief.

"Okay, I think I've spent long enough on my soapbox, so I will go easy on you. Plus, it's exhausting being mad at you. Usually that emotion is saved on Ron." Harriet smiled knowingly as Hermione broke from her tight grip. Turning around as they exited her bedroom, Hermione added in stern voice, "but I do expect you to communicate."

"Of course. Now, if the Dursley's taught me anything, it was to perfectly execute a good old-fashioned British breakfast. Now sit you arse down, and let me mother _you _for once." Harriet was relieved at Hermione's ease in forgiving her, but felt buttering her up was a good idea.

While she cooked the eggs and bacon, Hermione turned up the Wizard Wireless that Harriet got her last Christmas. An amicable silence enveloped the two as they let the sounds of sizzling bacon and music wash over them.

When her cooking was done, Harriet shut off the stove and piled food on both their plates, adding a generous amount on Hermione's. Her fellow Gryffindor noticed this of course, making a small, wry, smile, but picked up her fork.

Apart from the wireless chiming in the background, the only sounds were of their cutlery against their plates. Hermione put hers down momentarily and spoke up. "So, now that I've gotten your attention before, I would like to just say one more thing." Harriet groaned teasingly.

"Thank you, Harriet. I know that we had loose plans to do some shopping today, but I do believe that it would be a good time for you to start on your summer homework. I've finished all of mine, of course. Professor Snape's assignment was particularly arduous, but I have some extra books on potions that I owl-ordered from Flourish & Blott's that I can lend you that were very helpful sources of information."

Harriet took the time to chew her food during Hermione's rant, smiling to herself softly. Though she had emotionally told Harriet off a half hour ago, she perked up significantly when discussing school work. Some things would never change.

"Okay Hermione. You know, I think a girls day in is exactly what I need. I have spent more than enough time out in London," ignoring Hermione's shrewd look in response, she continued. "I think I am in dire need of a shower, but I am down for some studying."

Hermione smiled and picked her fork up. "Excellent. So, are you going to share who gave you those love bites, or do I need to ask nicely?" Raising her eyebrow sardonically at Harriet's impression of a goldfish, she took a mouthful of eggs in her mouth. "Hmmm… these eggs are positively divine Harriet! You really must tell me how you manage to make them so fluffy!"

"Shite."

* * *

><p><strong>A.N. Hello all! Thanks for all the reviews, I really appreciate it! It warms my heart that I got this much interest. I am maintaining my weekly schedule to post on Fridays. Please do keep reviewing, it definitely motivates me to keep writing! Thanks all :) Hope you enjoyed! <strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: **

* * *

><p><strong>POV TONY:<strong>

Tony awoke feeling odd, as if he was missing something. Well for one thing, there was no girl. It was an off night if he didn't bring a bird home. But usually, he had to employ the help of Happy to fabricate a story so he could cut ties with no muss and fuss- normally along the lines of an 'emergency business meeting'. Sometimes, he would just slip out of the suite, and rely upon the maid to compel his visitor to leave. This time, however, these theatrics were not necessary as the girl he brought up to the room was nowhere in sight.

Yet, in place of the relief he expected to feel was… disappointment. The sensation was completely foreign to him, because Tony Stark usually got what he wanted, effortlessly. Perhaps that was what it was? Perhaps because he didn't end up sleeping with the girl he felt unfulfilled? _Her name was Harriet, _a sneaky voice needled in his mind. _Maybe she had a bigger affect on you than you anticipated. Maybe you shouldn't have been such a girl and talk about your feelings. _

That insufferable voice in his head did have a point. Tony Stark never talked about his feelings. As far as anybody was concerned, Tony Stark did not _have_ feelings, apart from the selfish concern to live it up, squander his cash, bed the ladies, and have a good time. This was the persona that Tony effectively constructed for the public eye. At a young age, Tony had been the target of merciless bullying, not to mention under immense pressure by his father to act decorously.

After one particularly rough day, Tony's father was called upon to retrieve a bruised and bloodied Tony from school. But instead of receiving sympathy from his father, he was rebuked. As he put it, Howard was always under the public eye, and it would not do for his son to misbehave. As a response, Tony Stark, arrogant playboy, and heir to Stark industries was born. Over time, the sensitive, bullied Tony who wanted recognition, or even a _hug _from his father was pushed to the side to make room for the new and improved Tony. Wearing the mask became comfortable, and he soon found that life was infinitely more enjoyable that way. The way he saw it, the bullies were nonexistent, and he wasn't bound to ever earn his father's respect anyway.

Never having much luck in emotional women, when Harriet began to cry, he just wanted to defuse the situation. He just didn't anticipate confiding in her, and _seeking comfort _in her in return. He did not want to begin thinking that doing so caused him to grow attached to her this soon.

He shook his head to banish these unfamiliar ideas that were reaching a dangerous territory. _After a coffee she will be yesterday's news_, he thought to himself. Deciding to find Happy and have a cappuccino in a café, he pushed the covers aside and stretched.

Once outside, he spotted Happy with the limousine. Smiling, he approached him.

"Happy, aren't you a sight for sore eyes!"

"Yes, I made sure to look extra pretty for you this morning," Happy said with a poker-face.

Laughing, Tony got into his offered seat.

"Oh, Mr. Stark, speaking of pretty, I found a flask under one of the seats. I did not recognize it, so I assumed it belonged to last night's girl. I'm pretty sure I'm correct, so if you'd like me to dispose of-"

"No, that's alright Happy. I'll take care of it." These words slipped out without a thought. Ignoring the strange look Happy gave him, he reached over and gently plucked the flask from his hand. Putting it in his jacket pocket, he announced the destination and leaned back in his seat, lost in thought.

Having ordered a cappuccino, Tony Stark sat alone at a table outside. His meeting was to start in thirty minutes, but he couldn't care less. For some odd reason, his mind kept reeling back to last night. It was infuriating. Why couldn't he have just slept with her and get it over with? He hadn't been this distracted in a long time. _This is what happens when you toe the line, Tony. _He reasoned to the irritating voice in his head that because he merely tested the waters with her, he was still hooked. Concluding that being alone with his thoughts was too annoying at the moment, he decided to head to the meeting.

When he ambled his way upstairs of Burke's industry to where the meeting was supposed to occur, he was stopped by a young, upstart secretary.

"Uh, sir? There's a meeting in progress, if you would like-"

"I'm Tony Stark." Smirking at the double take, he made his entrance.

At the slightly shocked looks at the men and women seated around the table, Tony flung his hands up in the air.

"A guy shows up a couple minutes late to a meeting and is treated as if he kicked a litter of puppies!"

A rather attractive woman with a tight bun looked at him amusedly. "Mr. Stark, given your… reputation, we're just surprised you didn't arrive later."

"Is that so?"

"Welcome, Mr. Stark! We hope this is the beginning of a burgeoning relationship between our allied countries' militaries. Please, have a seat!" Tony glanced slightly at rotund man with a red face and sat at his proffered seat in a bored fashion. It wouldn't do to appear too eager.

Half listening to the discussion, Tony leaned back in his chair further, letting the words drone over him. Remembering the flask in his jacket pocket, he fished it out, and began twirling it between his fingers.

His brows furrowed slightly when he noticed words engraved on the center. In script wrote the words 'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good'. A hesitant smile appeared on his face. Surely a flask with this personal touch would be sorely missed? It wouldn't do to keep it, after all. Resigning himself to some research when he got back, he missed the fat man's attempts at his attention.

"Uh, Mr. Stark? Wouldn't you say?"

Not really sure what he 'would say', he decided he had a fifty-fifty shot at appearing natural, and decided to simply say what the man wanted to hear.

"Absolutely! I agree wholeheartedly with… that!"

"Excellent! So we should expect the negotiations to begin within a week?"

"I wouldn't dream of having you wait." He ignored the soft snort of Rhodey beside him.

Not really sure what he was agreeing to, he supposed they had reach some understanding, given the distinct lack of crabby looks on those working for Stark Industries.

After the meeting, he found Happy at the entrance of the building.

"Back to the hotel Mr. Stark?"

"Uh… I believe I would like to make a couple detours first… Do you happen to have a yellow pages on you? I am in need of a dentist."

* * *

><p>Though she regretted worrying Hermione, she could not honestly say that she regretted her night with Tony. Actually, thinking back on last night, it was rather pleasant. Though it began with Harriet being just another of Tony Stark's conquests, and Tony being a dysfunctional method of coping for Harriet, the night dissolved into something she had never experienced before. Maybe it was as a result of her rotten childhood, but Harriet was never one to talk about her feelings. Hermione and Ron would sometimes tease her when she would get into her 'brooding moods', but she didn't really know how to change. She knew that speaking to either of them would be safe, but cringed thinking about exposing herself to their judgement, friends or no.<p>

Harriet couldn't say for certain, but she also had the feeling that Tony told her things that no one else was privy to. She wondered what circumstances had arisen to allow both her and Tony's walls to temporarily crumble, only for the two of them.

Thinking of the intimacy of this event made her smile as she distractedly chewed on her peppermint flavored sugar quill with one of Hermione's books propped open in front of her. Reflecting on her night with Tony was far more amusing than reading the dull passages for her assignment on various healing potions. Granted, the topic was made easier by the mere fact that Harriet practically lived in the hospital wing at Hogwarts and had learned to recognize all the draughts and salves she was exposed to. Make a small note on her parchment about the uses of moonstone in both the draught of peace and in the wound-cleaning potion, she looked up at Hermione who lounged across from her in a loveseat with a tome of Ancient Runes propped up in her lap.

"Hey, Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"What's the difference between the wound-cleaning potion, and essence of dittany? They seem like they do the same thing."

"Essence of dittany has far more magical properties and requires no further use of a wand, whereas the wound-cleaning potion does not close the wound as effectively." Hermione recited.

"Then why do we even have the latter?"

"Well, it depends if the wound is caused by magical means, or not. Dittany is good for magical wounds, but may not fight infections from an exposed cut."

"Oh, I see. So when Madam Pomfrey gave me wound-cleaning potion after the hungarian horntail cut me…"

"Right, there was a potential of the wound being infected, so healing it that way was optimal."

"And if I splinched myself-"

"Then, yes, you would have required Dittany."

Silence enveloped between the two again, with only the sound of Hermione's quill rapidly scratching against some parchment. Knowing that she was just trying to avoid work, Harriet decided to make conversation that Hermione wouldn't resist.

"Hey, Hermione?" The quill stopped.

"Yes?"

"You know my hickies?" Hermione made an amused sound at the back of her throat.

"They're difficult not to notice…"

"Well, last night-" Harriet's confession was interrupted by three staccato raps at the front door.

"Oh, hold that thought Harriet. That must be Mrs. Parker with the flour. And don't think you're off the hook just yet!" Hermione got up swiftly and walked down the hall and out of sight.

Deciding to return to her reading, Harriet stared at the illustration depicting the ideal shade of purple for the wound-cleaning potion.

"Erm… Harriet?" Hermione was back in the sitting room with a mixed look of amused confusion on her face. "Would you happen to have received your love bites from an American with a limousine last night? Namely, someone who bears an uncanny resemblance to Tony Stark?"

At Harriet's frozen look of disbelief, Hermione smirked.

"How did you-"

"He's here now. Said something about returning a _flask_, of all things to you. Honestly, Harriet. I thought you knew better." But her smile betrayed her stern tone.

"I expect details Harriet. Now, go!" Hermione, practically vibrating with the urge to ask more questions pushed Harriet out of her seat and then gestured to the hallway leading to the front door.

Feeling a blush creeping up her cheeks, Harriet slowly walked towards the door and wrenched it open.

Leaning lackadaisically on one of the walls that framed the front of the Granger's home was Tony Stark. Arms crossed confidently, he was wearing a leather jacket with a Black Sabbath t-shirt underneath, and a wide grin that practically oozed satisfaction. In one of his hands lay her flask which he promptly shook towards her face.

"Forgetting something?" He asked. Back was Tony Stark from the club. Harriet wondered if he actually meant her flask, or something more.

"Oh." Without the aid of alcohol, Harriet did not feel the courage that seemed to fuel her actions the night before.

"It was in the limo. Happy found it under one of the seats. Aren't you happy?" he snorted at his own lame joke and handed it to her. Bemused, she took it from him. She had no idea what to say, or do for that matter. So she settled for the burning question in her mind.

"How did you know where to find me?"

"Well, that was easy actually. You told me."

"I most certainly did not-"

"Well, without meaning to, you did. You mentioned last night that you lived with your friend Hermione, and the Grangers, her parents who are dentists. It was not too hard to find a dentistry practice with two Grangers. Speaking of, do you think they can fit me in for a cavity? Last night was just so sweet-"

"Oh my god, stop!" Harriet started laughing, mortified. "Okay, so I wasn't careful enough. Noted."

"So fish and chips?" Tony quirked an eyebrow.

"Huh?" Harriet blinked stupidly at the non-sequitur.

"You. me. Fish and chips? I've been told that I haven't seen England until I've tried it."

"Uh, sure. I guess."

"Okay, you can get dressed, and I will be waiting out here in your oh so cheerful weather." He gestured at the gray and gloomy skies.

"Oh. I'm sorry, come in. Wait...Dressed?" Tony smirked and suddenly, Harriet realized she was wearing a spaghetti strapped top and pajama shorts that exposed far too much skin.

"Not that I'm complaining, sweetness" he added, raking his eyes admiringly over her form and pausing over her cleavage.

"I will be down shortly!" Harriet, embarrassed, scurried towards the stairs, hearing Tony's laughter behind her.

Waiting in her room was Hermione. She seemed to have already picked an outfit out for Harriet, which lay on top of her bed. It was cute, but casual. Sending Hermione a grateful look, she began to dress.

"Do you happen to know how old he is?"

"Older?" Harriet knew he was well into his 20's but figured some ambiguity never hurt anyone.

"Older." Harriet could tell Hermione did not approve, but was restraining herself. "Well, just be careful. I'll be waiting up!" She pulled Harriet into a firm hug and released her.

When she came downstairs, she found Tony inspecting some photographs displayed on the mantelpiece. Behind him on the sofa lay the book Hermione lent her, "Magical Maladies & Medicine" by Trinity Berker. Deciding she'd rather not answer any uncomfortable questions, she grabbed a throw pillow on a sofa, and placed it neatly on top. Then, straightening her skirt, she cleared her throat to get his attention. He whirled around and gave her a mischievous grin.

"So, Just Harriet, ready to take London by storm?" He presented his hand out to her. Rolling her eyes, she placed her mokeskin around her neck and accepted his hand. Though she tried to act blasé, a thrill of pleasure washed over her as he laced his fingers through hers effortlessly. The vision of Tony Stark holding her hand in Hermione Granger's house was incredibly bizarre to her. It was almost as if two worlds that seemed distinctly separated suddenly melded together.

Happy was waiting outside Hermione's house with the familiar black stretch limousine from the night before.

"Actually, Tony?"

"Yes, sweetness?" His pet name was said in a cheeky manner, but was still embarrassing.

"Stop saying that, Tony… pony!" In the attempts to make an equally gag-worthy name, she only caused him to abruptly laugh.

Amidst his laughter she heard him gasp "Pony? Who told you that was a good idea? Of all the world of rhyme schemes, you went with _pony?_"

Knowing that her face must be visibly red at this point, she mumbled, "I panicked… see if you can come up with a better one!"

"Okay, okay. What were you saying?"

"Well, I know a place not too far that has a mean fish and chips. We could give Happy a break and walk there. It is a bit of a dive though. On second thought-"

"Excellent! Happy, go get yourself a drink!"

"Mr. Stark, I am still on duty…"

"Then do whatever it is drivers do when they are not driving!" Though this statement came across as grossly arrogant and disrespectful to Harriet, Happy's reaction seemed… amused.

"Of course, Mr. Stark." If she hadn't been watching Tony closely, she would've missed his wink in Happy's direction as the chauffeur went to the driver's seat, and closed the door behind him.

"Lead the way, sweetness!" Muffling her groan, she pulled Tony towards their destination.

* * *

><p>Walking side by side with Tony in London was a strange feeling. She didn't even think she'd see him again, let alone accompany him on a… whatever this was. <em>Could she call it a date? <em>They made small talk that should've been awkward, but their easy banter made Harriet feel as if she knew him for years. Instead, it had not even been twenty four hours since their last encounter. She was enjoying herself, but was practical, and knew Tony's type. Smiling fondly, she remembered the cringe-worthy conversation that Sirius had with her about boys and their life long missions to steal her virtue.

* * *

><p>"Harry, I see you rolling your eyes, but I can personally attest to that fact! I was one of them! I still am!"<p>

"Okay, okay Sirius, I get it. Some boys are rotten."

"No, you don't. What I'm trying to say is that _all_ boys are rotten. Some are just rotten apples, whereas others like me are rotten…"

"Shits?" Harriet said cheekily.

"Shits! So you _do _get it." Sirius smiled infectiously. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and she leaned into his embrace.

"So how did I do? I know I'm rubbish. As far as first god-fatherly talks go…"

"Snuffles, I was captivated throughout."

Laughing uproariously, Sirius turned towards her and kissed her tenderly on the top of her head.

Their moment amongst the somber atmosphere of Grimmauld Place was cozy and warm. A peace enveloped the two.

Sirius broke the silence.

"Speaking of shits… I really must-"

"Ew! Sirius!" She punched him on the arm as he laughed and got up.

"_Doody_ calls, Harry!" He winked at her and meandered down the hall.

* * *

><p>Harriet with a small smile looked over at Tony. She wondered if Sirius would have tried to convince her that Tony belonged in the rotten shit category. Amused by the image of them meeting, she beckoned him to cross the street in the direction of the restaurant.<p>

* * *

><p>Harriet and Tony sat across from each other, each with a laminated menu from The Golden Stag. Harriet had original discovered the place while walking on her own, and immediately went in because of its name. Though it had initially reminded Harriet of her father and her patronus, she was instantly besotted with the atmosphere. Fish and chips was not the only thing served, but it was their specialty. Hiding behind her menu, she snuck a peek at Tony. He was staring intently at his own, brows furrowed in a way that she found oddly attractive. Only a small quirk of a smile preambled his next action.<p>

"Tony _Macaroni_!"

Harriet, startled, began to laugh on reflex.

"What are you on about now?"

"You asked me to come up with a better name… better than Tony Pony. Well this place inspired me, and I have. Toni Macaroni is miles better than Tony Pony."

"Well, Tony, if you ask me it sounds equally ridiculous," she scoffed.

"You may only refer to me as Tony Macaroni."

"Honestly Tony, you are bloody barmy." He only looked at her in return and raised an eyebrow. "Are you serious?" No response. She got up abruptly with a smirk. "Well, Tony Macaroni, I will be in the loo."

Tony heard her mutter darkly to herself as she made her way to the bathroom. He had half a mind to follow her in. Though he was intrigued by this girl, he also was attracted to her, and he had never spent long interested in a woman before she was in his bed. _Well, technically I did take her to bed but we skipped a few steps… maneuvers along the way. _He laughed softly along with the depraved voice in his head.

There was also the rare occurrence where he actually liked a fellow human being and intimately understood her in ways he was not prepared to understand. As a result, he felt far more comfortable believing that the sole purpose of taking her out yet again was to finally have sex with her. Being attached to someone was a foreign sensation and that made him nervous. Yes, it was much better to look at her from a more objective, sexual standpoint. That, he was familiar with. Tony was still browsing the menu when Harriet returned to her seat. He watched her as she absentmindedly chewed on her bottom lip and tap her foot rhythmically as she looked over her menu. _Damn, she's adorable. _

"You know, I think I'm good with just fish and chips. You've gotten me in the mood." She looked up at Tony, but paused slightly at his intense stare. _How long have I been staring at her?_

"Tony?" He tilted his head at her. "Are you still carrying on with the whole Tony Macaroni shite? You've exhausted it-"

He stopped her by leaning over the table and swiftly planting his lips on hers. She immediately moved in tandem. She tasted sweet. _Like peppermint_. He had just deepened the kiss when he heard someone clearing their throat above them.

"You lovebirds ready to order, yeah?" The waitress was chewing gum with a bored look. Harriet was first to recover.

"Erm-yes. We will have the fish and chips. If that's alright with you?" He nodded at her, but was deep in thought. The peppermint taste still coated his mouth. Why had the kiss felt like more than a kiss? _What the hell. _He was just acting on impulse, but it felt familiar, warm, and _nice_. A voice needled in his mind. _Maybe because this isn't an overture to sex, Stark. Wait, it isn't?_ Choosing to end his mental dialogue, he looked over at Harriet. Her eyes were vacantly wandering around the small eatery and she wore a small smile. _Small talk it is. _

"So, Harriet. I never actually learned your last name. Just Harriet has overstayed its welcome."

"Hm, I suppose I haven't." She looked oddly hesitant.

"Drumroll please. Harriet…" He quirked a smile at her while tapping his utensils on the table.

"Potter. Harriet Lily Potter. That's my name, Tony Macaroni."

"Harriet Lily Potter. That's nice. It suits you."

Looking down slightly, "Lily was my mum's name."

"It's beautiful," he supplied. She smiled in response.

"My godfather had told me that my parents 'had a feeling' I would be a boy. So they picked out Harry for a name. On the off chance that I would be a girl, my mum insisted on a flower name. Lily was her's. Petunia is my aunt's," her nose scrunched up cutely in distaste. "But apparently by the time I was born, they were so used to Harry, that anything _but_ felt… wrong. A couple heated arguments later, and they settled on Harriet. Only thing they could agree upon."

"For what it's worth, I'm glad you are not called Petunia."

"Yeah, I always thought she was nasty because she wished she was named… something pretty like Lily. There are many other flower names that are far less unfortunate. I wasn't far off the truth. Poor Petunia."

They continued on this vein as their food arrived. The fish and chips were wrapped neatly in newspaper, the grease already staining. Grabbing the ketchup, Tony continued the conversation.

"Your friend, Hermione. Now that's a strange name." Tony said. He bit into a chip. He immediately enjoyed the semi-greasy meal.

"Yeah, I think her parents are fans of Greek Mythology." She shrugged while chewing.

"She also looks very young. How old is she?" Tony questioned lightly.

Harriet took some time to answer, still chewing. She looked a bit nervous.

"Erm. Hermione's sixteen. So how do you like your food?" She changed the topic.

Ignoring this, Tony asked, "Sixteen, eh? That's quite young. How did you meet?"

"School."

"So she goes to college with you? She must be a prodigy. I suppose I'm not too alone there." He smirked arrogantly.

"Well… she is the smartest in our year," Harriet ventured.

"Sixteen _and_ top of your class?" Tony whistled appreciatively. "So where do you go to college?"

"The uh… Hog… university?"

Tony laughed in response. "I never heard of it. You study pigs there?"

"Yeah…haha." Harriet looked distinctly uncomfortable.

Bemused, Tony frowned and continued his interrogation, picking up another piece of fish.

"Okay… So how old are you?" Tony was just making small talk, but was not prepared for Harriet to look as if she was in pain. He watched a series of emotions flash across her face. It seemed that she settled for grim determination.

"Oh bugger it! Tony, _I'm_ sixteen."

It was not the words, but the resolute look on Harriet's face that made Tony inhale the fish through his trachea. Through streaming eyes, he noticed that apart from slight concern, her visage held the same honesty as before. His heart was racing furiously, unsure if it was a result of his choking fit, or her bombshell. Finally, when he dislodged it from his throat, his eyes bugged dramatically, and he got up from his chair.

"You're joking." He knew she wasn't, but did not have any idea how to respond.

She got up after him. "It's not so bad. Sixteen is the age of consent in Britain. I'm basically an adult."

He began to back up from her, heading towards the door. He laughed coldly. "Yeah, you're an adult, and I'm Lolita."

Despite the crazy situation, he saw her smirk. "Well, unless you fancy yourself an adolescent girl, I would be Lolita in this scenario."

"You're not helping!" They were now outside the restaurant, ignoring the hollers of the waitress behind them. Tony muttered to himself in a panic. Even in the cool weather, he felt a hot flush creep up his neck. _Sixteen. Fuck. Sixteen. _Like a mantra, those words reeled through his head. "I almost… fuck… sixteen…" Through his mumbles, he settled for a sentence- "You're a child. I can't believe this."

"If I'm a child, then you're a toddler, the way you act," Harriet said hotly.

"Of course you would say that. I'm a deviant. I'm a pedophile. A social deviant."

"Stop that. You didn't even know. I definitely don't view myself as a child anyhow. I've been through too much," she finished bitterly.

Though her words made sense in a way, his panicked state couldn't keep up. He knew he had a connection with this _girl_ the night before. He felt it. That didn't feel so wrong. What felt wrong was everything else that happened that night.

"No. This is. No. I can't believe this went as far as it had. I can't -with a child. Shit, you're sixteen. I can't."

The waitress had finally caught up with them, panting.

"Oi, you can't leave without paying!"

Harriet seemed to have produced money at of thin air. She shoved a generous amount towards the waitress.

"So sorry," she spat acerbically, eyes still on Tony. "Don't mind me. I'm just a child. Rotten shit." She tore her glance from him, rolled her eyes, and angrily stomped away.

Tony wanted to chase after her, yet instead watched her walk away. He turned the opposite direction, but not before admiring the way her legs sauntered away. Disgusted with himself he buried his head in his hands and groaned.

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><p><strong>A.N. <strong>

**Hello all! Thanks again for all the PMs and reviews! I really am grateful to all of you guys helping me to stay motivated and write all this out. I hope you liked this chapter. It is a lot longer than the other previous chapter, and that does not mean that my next one will be of similar length. I only end a chapter where I feel it appropriate, but let me know of your thoughts! **


	5. Chapter 5

**A.N: **First, I would just like to thank everybody who reviewed and messaged me, or put me on their follow/favorites list. It really means a lot, and motivated me to post my next chapter quicker. I'm sorry it took so long to update. At first, I held off on writing so I could study for my finals, and then reason after reason piled on to excuse me from continuing. Looking back at them, a couple of those reasons were mostly laughable. Either way, I just wanted to be clear on one thing- I will not abandon Scarlet and Gold. I made sure to have a plan before starting this story, so there **is **an end in sight, I promise! I might not be able to post weekly as I had previously, but I promise I will avoid making you guys wait as long in the future chapters! Thank you for reading!

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><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

Harriet was furious. She knew that she omitted something pretty big from Tony, but didn't quite expect him to be such a complete and utter arsehole about it. Her fingers dug into her palms, perpetually clenching, while her boots stomped angrily on the cement.

"Fucking moron." Harriet muttered mutinously to herself. _But you are too, aren't you Potter? Why did you even bother with him? You saw it from a mile away. _Disgusted with the truth held in the lofty voice in her head that sounded disturbingly similar to Malfoy, she made a strangled sound between a shriek and a growl. _Because I liked him. _This voice sounded distinctly like the pathetic, vulnerable Harriet that she knew _oh_ so well. With this thought came a burning prickle at the corners of her eyes and the sensation of her heart in her throat.

Her body working in autopilot, she made it to Hermione's house. Harriet tore the door open, and marched in, chest heaving. Still unsure of which unstable emotion to settle on, her eyes zeroed in on the studious form of Hermione laying in the sofa with her Ancient Runes book tucked into the crook of her arm. Their eyes met. That was all it took for Hermione to look at her with understanding and without a word, lift her quilt up. Hesitation skimmed her mind, before she clambered into the small space Hermione offered her and found herself enveloped in a hug.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Hermione's patient and caring voice sounded.

Harriet shook her head, but still felt tears creeping into her vision.

Immediately employing her skills from the Dursleys, she mentally captured the emotion and tucked it into the cupboard under the stairs that rested in the dark recesses of her mind. Taking a couple calming breaths, Harriet felt dull and numb. _Better. _

"Okay, I will give you time. But please don't use this as an excuse to shut me out again."

"I won't." Harriet didn't mean to be short with Hermione, but she _really_ didn't want to talk about it.

Closing her eyes, she volunteered one morsel to her best friend.

"I hate men."

Hermione snorted. "Just give it time, you will be on a date with… Cormac McLaggen before you know it."

"Gross. Hermione, are you _trying_ to get a rise out of me? I thought you were supposed to be comforting me, not making me vomit."

"Just imagine… You. Him. Madame Pudifoot's-"

"Shut it. I'm not afraid to take that book of yours and shove it-"

Hermione laughed. "Okay, okay. You just weren't going to talk to me, so I had to do something. It worked, right?"

Harriet grumbled. "I just had to be friends with the smart girl in our dorm."

"Please. Like you would survive with only Lavender and Parvati as company. They've been trying to give you a make-over in ages."

"Bless them. Their scandalized looks whenever I come in all sweaty and muddied from Quidditch practices. Makes me want Colin's camera and a frame."

They both laughed, but then fell silent. Harriet could hear Crookshanks purring in the seat next to them. Suddenly grateful at Hermione's attempts at comforting her, Harriet leaned closer into her and heaved a sigh.

There was so much to tell Hermione. So much that she hid from her. The prophecy, her feelings about the death of Sirius. Hell, she never even talked to her about Cedric and the graveyard apart from a couple of vague details. And despite that, her friend stuck with her firmly. Even when the whole of Hogwarts seemed to turn on her, when even _Ron_ turned on her, Hermione was there. Guilt gnawed its way into her gut. She was so lucky to have her, and she was a shit friend.

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

Hermione didn't have to ask what she was thanking her for. She only waved it away.

Harriet belatedly realized that she had spent the majority of the summer, neglecting to talk to Hermione. Instead, she had merely talked _at _her. That had to change, she resolved. She had to start talking. About something.

"I told him how old I really was."

"Oh. Well, if he couldn't accept that, then he isn't worth your time."

"I know. It still…" Harriet couldn't finish. She didn't want to express such weakness, not even to Hermione.

As if understanding, Hermione did that for her.

"Hurts?"

"Yeah."

The grandfather clock at the edge of the sitting room tolled. She counted each chime until a silence blanketed the two Gryffindors. Her next words punctured the quiet lull, on their own volition.

"I miss him, Hermione," she supplied, her voice wavering with emotion. Harriet wasn't talking about Tony in that moment, and Hermione knew it. She tightened her embrace, and responded.

"Oh, Harriet. I know."

In that moment, even though Hermione's soft hands and small frame were the exact antithesis of her godfather's calloused palms and the reassuring confidence he exuded, her comfort was enough, and she soon drifted off into a comfortable, but wistful sleep.

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><p><strong>Tony's POV<strong>

Tony sat wearily on a park bench that overlooked the city. He was hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees, and relished in the uncomfortability the position soon gave him. He was never the type to sit still or lay about, and could normally be found tinkering on his latest project. Usually, the average thought that kept him busy was one that could be easily solved with an algorithm or his expansive knowledge of physics and engineering. Today, however, he was stumped. His thoughts ran errant, each one conflicting the next. It was only the gradual darkening of the sky that indicated how much time Tony had spent on this park bench, in this position.

He didn't quite understand why he was so troubled. He just avoided something that would have most likely been messy. He should be thrilled, right? The way he viewed women was not right, he knew, but he tended to avoid those he believed to be _relationship material._ He also knew it was not right to assume that the women he met in bars and clubs were necessarily loose and provocative, but his main goal in life was to simply have a good time. He had been hurt too often as a result of dating as well as a result of his name, and found it was simply not worth it. Thinking back, his mind quickly and painfully reminded him of Sunset Bain, one of his first loves.

He met her while he was still studying in MIT, and the manner he fell for her was, in hindsight, embarrassing. However, he was young and naive, while she was five years older, seductive, and utterly immoral. Though he had already garnered a reputation when they had met, he truly believed that they saw each other clearly, that she saw the real Tony. This was his fatal mistake, as he was soon manipulated into giving Sunset the security codes for Stark Industries. Initially, he had accepted, hoping to impress her. Instead, this allowed for the theft of several valuable prototypes his father had worked on tirelessly. It was within a year that Bain then founded Baintronics, the underground counterpart to Stark Industries, serving more unsavory clientele. It did not take long for Tony to realize that it was her doing, and that everything he had felt for her was not reciprocated. Not only did this damage the tenuous relationship he had had with his father, but it also convinced the young man that dating, and that love was simply not worth it. In his heart, she gave him pain. But in his head, he was thankful to Sunset. She taught him a valuable lesson- that love was inherently selfish, but that sex, was pure and simple, and _honest._ Besides, he had cottoned on that a quick roll in the sack with a woman helped to temporarily ease the frequent bouts of loneliness he felt, and came with no complications. Then why was everything suddenly so complicated?

That was why he was in a club on his first night in London- on the prowl for a young woman who seemed both attractive, fun, and far from complicated. In fact, the only complicated thing he would've been partial to was the spelling of the chick's name. He liked women of all flavors, of all races- and he always liked an exotic looking conquest. Luckily for Tony, he normally had little trouble finding a suitable candidate, as most women he slept with initiated contact upon recognizing him. Regardless of where he was, being an internationally renown playboy had its perks. He remembered last night in clarity, despite having imbibed with abandon. Reclining comfortably in a loveseat, surrounded by his 'entourage', he spotted her. She was in the center of the dance floor, and she was beautiful. No, she was _captivating._ Immediately he knew she was something special. He watched her dance, his head slightly cocked to the side. She swayed in time to the music effortlessly, and confidently. She looked as though she could've raised her arms and took flight without a second thought. Tony didn't know why, but he felt as if she was the only one in the club with the sole reason _to_ _dance_. He imagined that as she twisted her body, she was shaking off all her demons, all her worries. She looked truly free. He watched with satisfaction as a few brave men struck out with her. How she batted their unwanted advances away as though they were no more annoying than a fly. How she elegantly moved elsewhere onto the floor without even opening her eyes. He noticed that she exuded such… charisma that the crowd on the dance floor parted around her effortlessly. He spent a few more minutes watching the almost choreographed scene, admiring the way her little black dress hugged her curves, and how the odd looking accessory around her neck bounced in oscillating directions, drawing his eyes to her cleavage. He had to have her, if only for one night.

He remembered how he, like all other guys, was rejected as he put his hands over her waist. He remembered how she, without even a glance, moved off the dance floor, to a more secluded region of the club. And he remembered giving chase. The thing he remembered most about their encounter, however, were her eyes. While admiring her from afar proved she was beautiful, her eyes almost made him forget he knew how to talk to girls. Framed by her thick eyelashes, those eyes even made her cute little pout of annoyance look alluring. The shade was unlike anything he had heretofore seen, an exquisite emerald. They were dazzling.

Despite that, nothing in their encounter suggested the rest of the night's income. Nothing suggested that he would come to view her as something more than a quick lay. With a surge of guilt, Tony realized how callously he viewed her (and all other women for that matter) before he spent some time with her. What's more, he felt awful that those thoughts were directed towards a child. Reflexively, the words she angrily spoke in response to being called a child echoed in his mind- _"I definitely don't view myself as a child anyhow. I've been through too much"_. He believed her too, after talking with her last night. He recalled the awful story of her childhood (or lack thereof) that she had told him. To be torn from one's parents in such a violent fashion was bound to force one to grow up. He shuddered to think of what she neglected to tell him. The way she skirted over the mistreatment of her family hinted at a more disturbing picture that lurked beneath. No, he did not doubt that she was mature.

But he could not help but cringe at the number. _Sixteen. _Usually the rule of thumb he used was eighteen. But, he also remembered her mentioning that she was at the age of consent in England. Did that make him right though? He was seven years her senior. He was sixteen, and far less mature when he first dated twenty-one year old Bain. That wasn't so different. But then he remembered how she took advantage of his age and naivety, and cringed. He definitely could not justify his actions with Bain's.

He simply didn't know what to do. He considered asking advice from Obadiah, but winced in anticipation of a very stern, very disapproving lecture. He then considered Happy, but figured that since Happy went along with most of his unscrupulous sex-and-run plots, he might not be the person to ask. He definitely didn't think asking Rhodey would be a good idea, considering his military background and inflexible moral code. Finally, he thought of Pepper. Being his personal assistant, she was the perfect mix between sympathetic and strict to his often-times reprehensible behavior. She never judged, she only accepted. As if he summoned her with this line of thought, she felt his cell phone vibrate with a call from none other than Pepper.

"Tony."

"Yes?"

"Happy informed me that he dropped you off for a date a few hours ago. I feel as though its safe to say that all went well? Because in that case-"

Tony felt that the best time to interrupt her was at her incorrect rhetorical question.

"Well about that, Pepper…"

"Tony," she warned, "what did you do? Do I need to call someone to fix another mess?"

"Hey, wait a second, why would you think it was something _I _did? Do you really think so poorly of me?"

After a couple moments of silence, she gave an amused intake of breath.

"Do you really need me to answer that?"

Tony felt his face redden. "Oh… right…"

At Tony's lack of clever retort, Pepper's voice shifted into clear concern.

"You want me to come get you?"

"No… no, well yes, _eventually_ seeing as how I'm kind of stranded on a park bench-" he paused, feeling a drop of water on his forehead, and another on his hand. "-and it's beginning to rain…"

"Where are you, Tony? I will come get you."

"Not yet…I need to talk to you about something, about the girl."

"Oh no, _seriously_ Tony? What did you _do_?"

"No, no. Technically I did nothing! Damn Pepper, where is your dirty mind taking you?"

She sounded amused now.

"Fine, Cassanova, please enlighten me," she quipped in a dry voice.

"Well, first I want to make it clear that I did not sleep with the, with _Harriet_," he corrected himself.

"Well that's new Tony, but I must say… smart girl."

Ignoring her joke, he continued. "Not to mean we didn't come close, nor that I didn't want to"

"Of course." Tony imagined Pepper was rolling her eyes at that moment.

"Right, so instead, we kinda just talked… about… stuff. All night. And it was nice. I got to know her a bit better, I suppose, and then we just slept together…"

"I thought you just said-"

"No, Pepper, I mean we just _slept_ together. We just slept, is all."

"Oh…" her voice sounded quieter, more distant.

"Still there Pep?"

"Huh? Oh yeah Tony, I'm still here." She cleared her throat and continued in a stronger voice, "That does sound nice. So what's the problem? Embarassed?"

"That's not it… not really. So I saw her again today, and took her out for some fish and chips, because yeah I guess I was embarrassed. You know that's not my M.O. I'm more of a tag it and bag it kind of guy, you know?"

"Sadly, yes, I do know."

He ventured on. "But see, we had a good time, everything was going great, but it turns out she's sixteen, and-"

Tony had to pull the phone from his ear with Pepper's deafening response. "She's _WHAT?_ Sixteen, Tony? What is wrong with you?"

"Pepper, please, spare my eardrums. I might want them later."

"Sixteen, Tony? Seriously?" she continued in a less crippling volume.

"I know, I know."

"But do you? Because Tony, if the media catches wind of this, you won't be portrayed as a womanizer anymore, you'll be painted as a cradle robber. You understand this, right?"

"Oh… but sixteen _is _the age of consent in England…" he parroted Harriet's words without thinking.

"Do you hear yourself right now? Do you hear how insane you sound? Tony, where are you? I think I need to knock some sense into you."

Tony opened his mouth to respond, but couldn't produce any sound. He knew he wasn't the most straitlaced American man, but now he felt worse than ever. How could he even consider continuing to see Harriet? Why did he call Pepper for advice? Nobody would have encouraged this. He pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel a headache coming on. The rain now came down hard, causing his normally well-coiffed hair to be plastered on his forehead.

"Tony?"

"Uh… um… yeah…?"

"Tony, are you okay?"

"I… I really don't know. It sounds strange, but I really think I liked her. I mean, I didn't just think she was pretty enough for a quickie. I mean, I liked her. As a person. Aside from you and Happy, and Rhodey, I don't really like anyone."

"That's because apart from me and Happy and Rhodey, you don't really _know _anyone." Pepper's voice took on a softer quality.

"Huh… yeah. I suppose that's true. I guess I just needed to hear some sense. I was trying to find good reasons that it's okay to date Harriet. That's why I called you."

"No Tony, I called _you_, remember?"

"Oh right, but I mean I was planning on it. It sucks, you know? I really did like her. I feel like even though I knew her for less than 24 hours, I'll miss her. She was cool."

"Tony, even though you won't date her, doesn't mean you can't remain friends. Heaven knows you could use one of those."

"I thought you said being around her would be bad for my image," he responded mockingly.

She sighed in response. "Not if you're careful. Not if you're obviously platonic."

Despite the fortunate direction the conversation went in, he felt… dissatisfied. Quickly suppressing the sensation, Tony responded.

"You know what Pepper, you're right. I think I'd like to be her friend." The rain punctuated his placating words to Pepper, making his seemingly positive sentence seem more like a death sentence. He frowned.

_Not true, _a voice of doubt rang in his head, _I don't want to be her friend. I don't want to be her friend at all._

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><p><strong>A.N: <strong>It took me forever to edit this chapter, as I kept finding issues with some of Tony's POV. In the end, I was mostly nervous of how reprehensible Tony's character would come across, while still trying to make him likable. I made peace with what I have written, because upon re-reading the chapter, **_I_ **still like Tony, so I hope you do too! We can't forget that Tony Stark's character was actually written by Stan Lee as an incorrigible, unlikable, tycoon. He wanted to write a character that was unlikable, and force us to like him. I definitely think that Robert Downey Jr. helped in that regard. With that in mind, I hope everybody liked this chapter. Please review with thoughts! They definitely motivated me to get going on this one last time!


	6. Chapter 6

**A.N: Hello! Thanks to everybody who read and reviewed my last chapter! I decided to polish this one off quickly as a pseudo reward/apology for taking so long last time! I hope this stands to prove that I will try and avoid a long hiatus. So without further ado, and without boring you, chapter 6! Hope you enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

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><p>Harriet awoke to the sound of a door closing. Still feeling the remnants on sleep enfolding her, she blearily looked around her. She was on the couch, with Hermione's quilt wrapped around her.<p>

"Hermione?" Jane Granger's voice sounded out in the entrance.

"Mrs. Granger." Harriet decided announcing herself was better than startling them when they discovered her on the couch.

"Oh, Harriet! Are you feeling better?" Confused at her question, Harriet blinked owlishly. She watched languidly as Mrs. Granger carefully placed her dripping umbrella in its stand. She idly noted that it was raining, evident from the light patter she heard on the roof.

Hermione came downstairs at that moment and answered for her.

"Harriet's feeling much better. Nothing a pepper-up potion couldn't remedy! Hello mum, dad. How was work?"

"Exhausting!" Hermione's father announced, taking his coat off. "I swear… Robbie Fenwick will be the death of me. That boy has teeth like a shark."

"Harriet?" Hermione leaned over the banister. "You've got some post."

Giving a parting smile to the Grangers, Harriet went upstairs. In Hermione's room, Hedwig was perched, her amber eyes intelligently piercing her.

"Hey girl. I hope the rain didn't bother you too much." She affectionately stroked her slightly damp feathers, to which Hedwig responded with a gentle nip. Drowsily wondering if it was another letter from Ginny, Hermione's voice sounded from behind her.

"Here. It has Hogwart's crest on it, but we already received our book list."

Harriet took the letter from her, and tore it open, revealing a recognizable looping script.

"It's from Dumbledore. He wants to come by tomorrow night to discuss some things. I wonder what it's about…" she mused nervously.

Hermione only hummed in response, before plopping on her bed.

"Do you think… do you think he's upset about me staying here with you? That I hadn't told him I was staying here with you?"

"Could be, but I doubt he'd come all this way to tell you so. However, I'm just speculating…"

Harriet chewed on her lip worriedly as Hermione handed her another letter with Ginny's familiar script on the front.

"You got this as well. From Ginny, I imagine."

Unfolding the parchment, Harriet scanned another description of Ginny's exploits with Dean Thomas, a Gryffindor boy in Harriet's own year. He had been spending the past two weeks at the Burrow, and had become far _closer_ to the youngest Weasley, much to Ron's chagrin.

"Did anything else come for me?" Harriet asked. She wasn't sure why she asked as they both knew she didn't receive too much post. However it seemed as though Hermione understood the any_one_ that was implied instead. She shook her head sympathetically.

"I'm sorry Harriet."

"It's fine. He's an asshole."

"Right. Take this as a blessing. It's better you know his true nature now than be hurt further down the line, right?"

Harriet nodded emphatically, but in her head she was still disappointed. Though it seemed obvious that Tony Stark would act like a pig from anyone's perspective, Harriet was almost sure she met a different Stark than he normally presented to the world. She didn't voice this concern, but instead agreed with Hermione.

"Exactly. You know... come to think of it, he reminded me far too much of Malfoy for my comfort."

Hermione shuddered theatrically in response, while Harriet decided not to mention who he also reminded her of. Besides, it was so much easier being angry at Tony and joking with Hermione, than to be hurt and offended.

"Harriet Potter," she spat in an impression of Malfoy. "With a _muggle_. Wait 'til my father hears about this!"

Hermione clapped her hand over her mouth to muffle her shocked laughter. "I'm glad you are coping with this so well." She beamed.

"Coping? Hah! I think it's high time for us to celebrate! I, Harriet Potter, the chosen one, hereby declare that Tony Stark is practically dead to me! "

Distracted by her own desire to forget Tony Stark, she didn't catch the panicked look Hermione shot her.

Making her way downstairs to the kitchen, Harriet hollered over her shoulder, "Hey Hermione, do we still have ice cream?"

Hermione was still planted to the spot, apprehension etched on her face.

Concerned by Hermione's sudden lack of composure, she doubled back, deciding to abandon her ice cream hunt.

"Hey, what's the matter?"

"The prophecy? I thought it had smashed…"

Suddenly realizing her error, Harriet considered not telling her anything. However, with a pang she remembered her promise to Hermione, and shook her head slightly.

"Dumbledore was the one it was given to at the very beginning. He sat me down after Sirius-" Harriet cut herself off, her voice fraught with emotion.

She was no longer as angry at Dumbledore as she was the night she had made short work of destroying his office, but it would be foolish to assume that emotions did not remain from that fateful night. This was part of the reason why she willfully ignored Dumbledore's wishes for her to return to the Dursleys', in favor of staying with Hermione. At this thought, she winced at the shame bubbling in her gut. Without the grief addled mind to influence her as greatly, Harriet understood that 'sticking it to the man', the man being Dumbledore in this instance, was woefully misguided. She was wrenched from these thoughts with Hermione next question.

"Is that what it said? That you're the _chosen one_?"

Harriet shrugged. "More or less. I'm sorry I hadn't said anything before. What with… everything, I didn't want to think about it, let alone talk about it." Noticing the fear in Hermione's eyes, she sighed. "Not to mention, I didn't want to see how you and Ron would react… like this. I figured I could keep you guys for a little longer before the inevitable."

"The inevitable?"

"You know, before you two would have to keep your distance now that I am dangerous."

At this, the apprehension on Hermione's face melted, and she raised a mocking eyebrow.

"Honestly, after all these years of friendship, you never fail to remind me of how daft you can be."

Harriet shot her a look.

"No, honestly. Stop trying to be a hero. Ron and I aren't going anywhere. We never were. Chosen one business aside, you forfeited the opportunity to get rid of us when you _chose_ to befriend Ron on the express… when you _chose_ to rescue me from that troll. You'll just have to accept that." Hermione pursed her lips stubbornly and crossed her arms at that.

Grateful, she hugged Hermione. Hermione tightened her arms around Harriet in response. "I don't know what I would do without you."

"You'd probably just get away with skiving more classes. You _are_ a talented witch, you know." She continued, her voice softer. "I'm just glad you're finally opening up to me. About Tony, and about… this. No matter how messy either of those situations are, I'm here for you. So is Ron."

"I'm so lucky to have you as a friend."

"Oh pish posh," Hermione replied, though she looked pleased.

"But seriously, between Stark and Voldemort, I have the worst luck with men." Harriet laughed at her horrible joke while Hermione rolled her eyes.

The two Gryffindors spent the night eating junk food (sugar-free snacks courtesy of the Grangers), flipping channels on the telly to gravitate on the insultingly mind numbing programs on the telly (presently broadcasting a gossip show that discussed the latest in Kate Moss news), and simply talking. Harriet felt guilty when she realized that they hadn't had a night where they simply enjoyed one another's company for a very long time. At one point, she even offered to braid Hermione's hair, resulting in an incredulous look thrown in her direction, and a point towards her bushy mane.

"Oh come on, I've seen you wear a plait before!"

"But you haven't seen the part where I run a brush and some Sleekeazy potion on it beforehand!"

"Now you're forgetting my painstaking involvement in your hair for the Yule Ball! I believe the words Viktor Krum said were something along the lines of 'Hermy-own-ninny-'" Harriet only laughed and continued her impression of the Bulgarian seeker. "I vant you to know zat you"

"Hush. Tony!" she suddenly exclaimed.

"Have the sweets gone to your head? The name's Harriet? Been your mate for over five years now-"

"No, Harry. Look!"

Harriet turned her head towards only to see Tony Stark staring back at her.

The Kate Moss bit seemed to have wrapped up, and the women on the television were now discussing Tony in muted tones.

"Hermione, turn it up!"

Hermione swiftly grabbed the remote and raised the volume up several notches.

"-is never one to disappoint his adoring public, always with a new love interest." The blonde woman spoke, smiling at the camera, only to turn towards the brunette beside her who began to reply.

"Now, Kate. Love interest is going a little far, isn't it? I believe it'd be more accurate to say… conquest, wouldn't you?" She quipped impishly.

Harriet stared, mouth partly agape.

"Too true Alice. I suppose this distinction is to the relief of many devoted admirers of American tycoon and womanizer, Tony Stark!" At this Kate looked like the cat that ate the canary. "Thanks to our expedient staff at 'Celebrity News Now', new footage came to light on the … _latest_ Stark arm candy. But _who_ is this mysterious young woman?

Alice took the lead once more. "Our sources tell us that just last night, Tony Stark let loose in one of London's exclusive underground clubs while in the city to allegedly strike a merger for Stark Enterprise. It appears that he arrived with renown glamour model, Clara Coco." The screen flashed to a surprisingly clear shot on Tony with his arm around an elegant and beautiful looking woman. Harriet could tell she was a model due to her looks and her wardrobe- comprised of an opulent, white fur coat. The screen returned to the women in the studio.

"Nonetheless, it was not too soon after he arrived that he had left with a mysterious young woman in tow." The screen now projected a photo that showed Tony from the back, hand in hand with a girl who could only be Harriet.

At this, Harriet groaned and Hermione looked at her in concern.

"At least we can't tell that it is really you-" Hermione trailed off uncertainly when the screen transitioned to a video with a very visible, very drunk Harriet being carried out of a limousine by Tony Stark. They were only a few meters away from the limo when the two attached at the mouth, sharing what appeared to be a very passionate kiss. Her legs were tightly wrapped around his waist.

"Paparazzi stationed outside Tony Stark's hotel were able to capture footage of the very same mystery woman to be involved with Tony Stark," Kate continued.

"Any information on the identity of-" Hermione promptly shut the TV off, leaving an unnatural quiet in its wake.

"Er… Harriet?" Hermione looked at Harriet nervously. She now had her faced buried in her pillow. The only sign that she had heard was a muffled whine.

"I'm a floozy, Hermione," she warbled. Harriet raised her head from the pillow and raised herself up on her elbows, resting her chin in her hands. "I'm Just another one of his _many_ tramps. I'm what Mrs. Weasley would call a _scarlet woman_. I'm so humiliated."

"That's not true, Harry. You told me that nothing happened, that you just talked."

"But, didn't you see-" Harriet gestured angrily at the now black television screen.

"The day you should put _any _stock into that trash is the day Rita Skeeter would be worth listening to! The media in the muggle world is just as bad as the Wizarding World. Don't pay it any mind. Nobody will ever recognize you. Tell me, aside from me, who do you know with a telly?"

Harriet groaned into her pillow again. "I feel so low, Hermione. It's not like I fell in _love_ with him or anything, but to see him like _that_. To see _me _like that. I feel so cheap now. Was that all I was to him? An easy lay?"

Hermione frowned, and tucked a lock of her bushy hair behind her ear.

"Harriet, I can't speak for Tony Stark, but I _can _speak for you. I trust you. You rarely make mistakes. Not those made by a teenage girl. Even if you made unwise decisions, I don't think you made a mistake. You're a good judge of character. I truly believe that you found a person to open up to. From what you said, I have him to thank partly… for you opening up to me. Those ladies seems to think that Tony Stark is immature and immoral. So? According to the prophet last term, you were a depraved, attention-seeking liar! Today? From the way the tide changed, it's as if you are the second coming. Nobody seems to even remember their previous opinions." She sighed.

"What I'm trying to say is to try not to get too worked up about this stupid gossip. You're upset with Tony Stark, but don't go and start believing that you were no better than a… a… hussy! Not that there's anything wrong with that anyway. Never mind what anyone says."

Harriet looked up and smirked at a reddening Hermione for her use of language. "Wow, I think I'm a bad influence on you, Herm-own-ninny." She snickered at Hermione's face of objection. "But you know what? Screw those stupid Alice and Kate ladies on that stupid telly! Screw those creeps with cameras! And screw Tony Stark. He is _not_ worth my time."

Hermione smiled in triumph.

"And thank you, Hermione. You're right. I doubt anyone will ever find out about my brief moment of insanity. Nobody important, anyways."

* * *

><p>Petunia Dursley craned her long neck in front of her vanity mirror. She was removing her hair curlers, and admiring the results in her blonde hair. Monday mornings, while Vernon was at work, Petunia made a point of having tea with the other housewives. The locations alternated between each of their homes, but one thing remained the same- tea time was more accurately the veiled opportunity to flaunt one's most recent good fortune.<p>

Mrs. Appleby's child was on the honor-all, so she never failed to mention dear Trevor's academic pursuits. Mrs. Polkiss' husband owned a semi-successful insurance company, a point of pride for the household. Mrs. Halliday always enjoyed to not-so-subtly mention the most recent gift her dear husband bestowed upon her. Personally, Petunia believed that Mrs. Halliday was just too gullible to realize that Mr. Halliday had so _obviously_ taken on a mistress, and only brought her tokens of guilt after another scandalous 'business meeting' in a seedy motel.

Smiling thinly to reveal horsey teeth, Petunia applied a layer of makeup and a gaudy string of pearls around her neck. She liked to tell the other women that it was an heirloom passed down her family. Finally, she removed her tartan robe, and selected her recently bought dress. It was light blue with white polka dots, and very expensive, which she was also sure to mention to the other housewives.

Grabbing the store-bought peach cobbler, she ambled her way down the walk, over to Mrs. Halliday's house, who was hosting this week's tea time. Knocking on the door, she heard the muffled voices within cut short. A pause, and then Mrs. Halliday was at the door with a false smile on her face.

"Petunia, _darling_, so glad you could make it!"

"Of course, Fiona. Thank you. How is George?" Petunia took the time to notice that the other two women were already inside, looking suspiciously innocent to Petunia.

"He's wonderful dear. And look, he brought me these Thursday night." She pointed at her pearl earrings dangling from her ears. Petunia tittered positively, but smirked on the inside at the gossip material to have with the other women. Speaking of, she was almost sure she was the latest topic of conversation before having arrived. Petunia fumed within as those who arrived last were almost always gossiped about. No matter, she had an excellent update about Vernon and Duddikins.

Smiling archly, that is exactly what she spoke about as Fiona Halliday poured her a cup of Earl Grey.

"-another deal with Mr. Kyoto. Had I mentioned? Oh, thank you, Fiona." Petunia took a delicate sip from her teacup and rested it on her lap.

"That is lovely to hear Pet," Deborah Polkiss commented. "I hope Vernon's raise will allow for you to buy something nice for yourself. Perhaps a pair of gloves to go with your new dress!"

The other women nodded, while Mrs. Halliday reached for the gossip magazine on the coffee table between her and Petunia. She curled her lip in distaste. She never had the taste for those rags. Her life was fabulous enough, thank you very much. She had no reason to compare herself to the loose women in the pages. All the same, Fiona was never without her subscription to several gossip magazines. The one she reached for looked quite new, perhaps delivered this very morning.

"You know, I think I saw just the thing just this morning." Petunia noticed Mrs. Halliday give a conspiratorial glance at the other women. She raised an eyebrow in suspicion.

Mrs. Appleby, sitting daintily next to Fiona pointed at one of the pages inside "Oh _my_, Petunia! How funny! this girl looks awfully like your niece!" She piped up in a well rehearsed manner. Petunia froze at the mention of the girl. The summer holidays were much lovelier without her presence, and her thoughts rarely went to her nowadays. She feared looking over. However, Mrs. Appleby placed the magazine back on the table, and slid it in Petunia's direction. Craning her neck, she saw it. But it couldn't be.

Plastered on the two visible pages were the words: '_Who _Is_ Tony Stark's Mystery Girl?_' In the center was a shot of that-that-_witch_ in the arms of a very famous, very wealthy American. Her eyes bugged out comically, and she accidentally overturned her tea all over her new dress. Yelping partly in shock and pain, Petunia tore out of her seat.

"My dear, are you _alright_?" Mrs. Polkiss looked up in concern. Petunia felt hot and clammy in realization. This is what they were discussing before her arrival. She had to correct this. She never mentioned her niece for obvious reasons, and did _not _want to start now.

"Hmm? Oh yes, my apologies. I seemed to have spilled my tea. Clumsy me!" She laughed nervously.

"But Petunia, wouldn't you say this looks identical to your niece? Where did you say she went to school, again?"

"St. Isidore's Academy for Troubled Girls," she recited in a squeak.

"Troubled, you say?"

"Yes, she is there _now, _in fact. This is just a very odd resemblance, is all. She is nowhere _near_, where is this?" She looked at the caption dated two nights ago in London. "London! She is nowhere near London," she continued, with more confidence. _London_. Where Harriet informed her she would be staying over the summer. Anger burned inside, with a twinge of another familiar sensation. One she refused to feel since childhood with Lily. She suppressed it, and rested her now empty cup on the table.

"I'd appreciate it if no rumors were bandied about! This is obviously not poor Harriet, and I would hate for that to go around!"

"Oh, but of course!" reassured Mrs. Polkiss.

"But I must really be going now. I just recalled… Vernon is bringing another client tonight, and I really must be preparing!"

"Oh so soon? Pity!" Mrs. Halliday responded in her smug voice. Petunia wanted to say something about Mr. Halliday's infidelities, but reigned in her cold anger.

Giving an obligatory, parting kiss on each woman's cheek, she offered one more false smile, before swiftly exiting. As she went to close the door, she could hear the conversation pick up.

"Poor Pet, she must be in shock. And her new dress too."

* * *

><p>Harriet awoke the next morning to the distinctive smell of sizzling bacon. Padding downstairs to the kitchen, she paused to scratch Crookshanks under the chin. Though the previous day turned out sour, she was in a better mood after the night she spent simply being normal with her best friend.<p>

"Morning," Hermione chirped. "I made some eggs and bacon for us both. I figured since you made some yesterday." As she spoke, she portioned out the food onto two plates, and brought them over to the table.

"Oh thank Merlin, I'm famished!" Harriet said through a mouthful of eggs.

"Please don't tell me Ron's deplorable eating habits rubbed off on you! Swallow!"

Hermione wrinkled her nose at the mischievous glint in her eye, realizing the dirty joke fodder she supplied her friend.

"Don't!" she warned.

Harriet just tilted her head and shot her a look of supreme innocence in return. However, her clever retort was interrupted by a sharp knock at the door.

"Don't get up Hermione, I'll get it."

She pulled her short nightgown further down to cover her boyshorts, and looked into the spyhole. All she saw was white. Frowning, she opened the door.

Blinking rapidly, she saw an arm holding a vase of lilies. Attached to the arm was none other than a winningly smiling Tony Stark.

* * *

><p><strong>A.N: Hope you guys all enjoyed the latest chapter. Sorry I didn't have a Tony POV or not much TonyHarriet. I swear its not on purpose! Not totally, that is! I must admit I enjoyed writing the possibly controversial POV of the much beloved Petunia Dursley a little too much. As much as I'd love to cram Tony/Harriet action in every chapter, I'd much rather give the story a natural progression. This will, hopefully make all the Tony/Harriet moments more enjoyable in the long run (Emphasis on _hopefully_). Either way, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I promise I will try and get the next chapter up soon-ish. Please review. The friendly and helpful reviews were a large part of why I continued so quickly. The criticisms are also much appreciated! Thank you all! **


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